An inspirational Encounter
by Cool Jay
Summary: How did I get inspired about writing something like “A Hero’s Tale”? It all starts with a normal, snowy day… Or so I believe. Read "A Hero's Tale" to understand this story.


**_O_**

**_An Inspirational Encounter_**

_How I got my inspiration for « A hero's tale » - Taken from my Diary_

**_O_**

Monday, January 21st, 2009

There are times when I sit in my room at my desk with the computer looking at me, waiting impatiently for my fingers to press on its little buttons to write more of my stories. Only this time, I found it difficult to make a single phrase. I guess this is what you call a writer's block.

I have so many ideas in my head that need to be unleashed. The only problem is that I can't find a way to write it down. My ideas are mixed with the experienced activities from the day, and all I can do is stare at the screen, pondering about them.

I have to get my homework done. Sarah wants me to clean up the room. Chocolate is good, but it tastes better with ice-cream. How much more random can it really get?

The silence in this house barely exists, expect between midday and four o'clock. After that, a war between siblings takes place, and the whole house becomes the battleground. The cries and screams reach all the way upstairs in my room and it is difficult to concentrate. It always ends up with me getting out of the room, joining the fight, bringing some senses into these baby-acting children, and then I return to my chair with great dissatisfaction. No way can I continue working with that kind of mood, especially when the whole brawl starts all over again after five minutes.

Of all days, I never believed that today would be different.

Coming home from school, I headed towards my room with some of the left-over lunch. Nobody was home, as I had expected. They're all either at school or at work. I was alone, and sometimes, in my share of experience, being alone was always such a relief. I sat down on my chair, turned my computer on and waited impatiently for the demanding password to flash onto the screen. Out of habit, I typed the password with one hand, and again, waited. I can't count the number of times I wanted to die because of this slow-processing computer. It was really annoying.

When it was all done loading, I opened the folder "My Stories" and double-clicked on one of its document to continue my writing. The document popped into the screen, and my senses absorbed all the words of the story that I've been writing so far. My fingers lay on the keyboard.

However, I still couldn't write.

I had the wanted silence. I had the inspiring ideas. Delicious food and a refreshing drink were in a safe distance right next to my computer. So why can't I still write?!

I sank into my chair and sighed wearily, looking at my feet. This writer's block, what is that? A sickness? How can I get rid of it?

_Knock knock._ "Hello? Hey! You there!"

My head jolted automatically up, and I spun my whole chair around to the back of the room, looking for the source of this male voice. My guess was the voice being my brother, but I had to think twice on that. Nah, it couldn't have been him. He couldn't slur "there" like that. Why would he anyway?

I was stunned, because even though I heard someone, nobody was there. Am I hearing voices? Am I losing my mind?

"No, not yet, in any case. I'm right here. Here!"

I spun my chair around to face the computer, from where I heard the voice. Of course nobody was there. Only the computer. But what if the computer was talking to me?

I dared to answer back. "Uhm… Hi there, computer. Did you just… talk to me?"

"Oh yeah, as if a computer could magically have a mind of its own. Look at the screen!"

I looked at it. "Sorry, I don't know what you mean."

The voice sighed. "At the right corner."

I obeyed and focused my eye-sight on the right corner of the screen. Then my eyes caught a movement of a dot. I approached my head, finally seeing something black waving at me. I brought my whole body even closer to get a better look.

All of a sudden, that black spot instantly spread throughout the screen, and I realized then a whole, black face was looking at me. It went so fast. Simultaneously, a piercing shriek blasted out of the speakers and caught me in a total shock. I screamed and automatically tumbled out of my chair, landing on the ground. I gasped dramatically as if I had seen a ghost. Couldn't describe it any better.

From down here to up on my table, now that was a long way to fall. The outcry was all of a sudden replaced by an uncontrollable laughter, and the screen lit up like before. It was then I saw him for the first time, holding his stomach and slapping on his knees.

"You should've seen that face you made!" he laughed teary-eyed, "That was so priceless!"

I got back up on my feet, walking in hesitant steps towards the computer. Eyes narrowed in disbelief, I took a seat while still hearing the unstoppable laughter. It couldn't be him. It's just impossible. But both my eyes and my heart said different.

"You can't deny what you're seeing, sugar. Let me put in an ambiance for this introduction."

I saw that individual hitting his orange hand twice on the iTunes icon, and its program appeared on the screen with the whole list of music to select. He was standing on the bottom of the screen, placing his one hand on the iTunes down-scroll button to find a song while his other hand, crunched into a fist, laid on the side of his hip. He had this unimpressed expression, so easily fitting his character, when looking up at songs at his disposal.

"Nah… No, too slow. Boring. Lame. Geez, you've got no taste in music." He responded. The list went on and on. He yawned a couple of times, scratched his head, cracked his fingers, and countless other things to perturb me. He stopped scrolling after a while, eyes and grin wide in uncontainable satisfaction. "Aha! That one! Perfect…"

He walked to the list, and double-clicked the song. I don't know how he did the next thing, but I remember seeing him making a snap of his fingers and the screen went black. A knocking noise came through the speakers, and once that person said "Hey, is this thing on?", I knew what song he had used.

The rocking sound of guitar and drums came like a flow and flooded my whole room with the awesome song of "I love rock'n'roll". As they did, flashy colors of yellow to dark orange spread from the center throughout the screen like an endless resource of paint, and little lightning-bolts joined in on the pounding beat. In the middle of the screen, during the verse, the back of the self-righteous hero faded into iTunes' visualizer, taking on a calm position. If you knew that song, you'd know how great it was, especially towards the chorus. And when the music came closer towards a stronger, irresistible rhythm, he asked aloud: "Who am I?"

When the music entered the beating chorus, he turned around and took several poses. "I am the crime-fighter of justice, the hero amongst heroes, the greatest, the worthiest of them all, Danger Duck!"

I still couldn't believe what I was seeing. As this melodramatic Duck took on many poses as if he were in a fashion show, I found myself contemplating about it. The way he acts, the way he speaks… It was an undeniable truth. I had to get up to look even closer to see if it was all real, and slap myself several times to know that I wasn't dreaming.

"Am I steaming you up or what?" he said, giving me a wink.

"Uhm… No." I answered back dryly, "A simple introduction would've been fine."

"Where's the fun in that? All right, enough of that. I've had MY fun."

The music had ceased and my desktop was back on, with nothing but icons on it. And Danger Duck in the middle of the screen. If I didn't say so myself, it almost seemed like his head was getting bigger.

Correction. His head was getting bigger, along with the rest of his body, more like following it. I had to get out of my chair again to see an even weirder and unusual event unfolding itself.

The head of the immature impresser popped out of the screen like a bubble floating to the surface of the water and popping when it came into contact with air. His arms came next, and he used his hands on each side of the monitor to pull the rest of his body out of the computer. It appeared to be easy for him, since no strain displayed his facial features. If it were me, I'd say a ghost came out of the screen, since he was partially transparent.

When the soles of his feet were out, he floated for a short time before letting them touch the ground. He wiped something off his shoulders, and it sprayed my way. I gave him a surprised face with the longest form of "O" marking on my mouth, eyes twitching with no rest, and what do I get in return? An innocent, self-defending stare.

"What? It's only computer-dust. Harmless, unless you've got allergies."

I shook my head. "No. This can't be real. YOU can't be real. I must be dreaming."

"Oh come on!" he snapped back, "You can't deny the lovely image of the brave hero Danger Duck!"

_That's it. I must be crazy. I've clearly lost it._

"How many times do I have to tell you?! You're NOT crazy!"

After a short moment of silence and recuperation, he added: "No surprise coming from your side. I'm a character from a TV show you watch. Something like would also freak me out."

"My mind…" I said, "You read my mind. Every thought I've been thinking… You read it all."

"Really?" he said surprised, "Wow, that's new. Well, in the state that I'm in, I guess it's not easy to tell thoughts and speech apart. Anyway, I came here for something very important. There is a favor I need to ask of you."

"Me? Why?"

"Well, you are a fan of the Loonatics Unleashed show, and you're in easy contact with the dreamy world. Getting in contact with a person like you is easy."

"So you're telling me that this is a dream?"

"Not at all. This is reality. Dreams are an alternative for reality. I think when people say 'Follow your dreams and they will come true', then this one of the many things you get."

"But this isn't my dream." I concluded, "I mean, sure, I did wish a couple of times to meet or see you, or any kind of character from my favorite TV series, but not that intensively."

"You're right. It's my dream."

I blinked a couple of times. "Yours? Now I'm confused."

"Look, my dream is to find someone to tell my story. And since you're known on a fan-fiction's site as the author called Cool Jay, I figured you would be a great story-teller."

"I appreciate your thoughts, Duck, I really do. But I've got writer's block."

"That is because you've got no idea what to write. I want you to hear mine out, and if you don't like it, then you can refuse."

I bobbed my head a couple of times, took a seat and paid closely attention to what he had to say. "So, what's it all about?"

* * *

I don't know what happened. I don't know how it happened, but I found myself in the most pitiful state I could ever be. My knees were pulled to my head, covering the hard-to-hold-back tears, and I could not find a way to keep my whole body from shaking. Sobs escaped my throat in a nigh suffocated cry, and a river of drool would have flowed out of my mouth had it not been for the constant swallowing.

"Duck…" I choked out, "You're… You're telling me that you…"

I couldn't look at him. I didn't dare to. He of all heroes…

"Yeah." He said in an absent enthusiasm, "If you sum it all up together, me reading your mind, appearing in your computer, standing in front of you in a transparent form… You can only come up with one conclusion. I'm dead."

"Duck… You idiot…" I sobbed, "How could you die like that…"

It's very strange at what moment anger takes over you, causing you to lose yourself in your own emotions. I jumped out of my chair with clenching fists and faced the fallen hero with an uncontrollable rage. "How could you?!" I shouted through bared teeth, "I refuse to believe your story! You… You… It just isn't fair! I won't believe it!"

"It's your choice to believe my story, CJ, I'll give you that." He admitted with an indifferent stare, "But what I told you is the truth, and it is something you can't deny. In your heart, you know that very well. I can feel it."

My anger seemed to have been washed away, along with the raging power that influenced me. It left me there to tremble, and as it became too much, I crumbled to my knees and used my hands against the floor to support my heavy head. How long until this unbearable sadness will stop its shedding of tears?

As I hiccupped the forceful grief that wanted to get out, I could feel Duck kneeling down by my side and, to my utmost surprise, patting me and stroking on the back. "I may be the egoistic Danger Duck of the Loonatics Unleashed, but I harbor feeling as well. Seeing people like you cry for me, I'd say I feel, as Ace would probably say it, _honored_, but it makes me sad too."

"I… I can't stop crying, Duck…" I whimpered, "You, the one who makes my kind laugh with your immature attitude and who cracks up sarcastic jokes… You shouldn't be dead. You should still be out there, fighting crime and giving those crooks a taste of your sarcasm." I chuckled half-heartedly at the last sentence, but my smile was quickly withdrawn by the lingering presence of the sorrow. "But with you gone… How can either fans or your comrades cope with your death?"

He stood up and walked towards the wide window, gazing out into the snow-covered environment, its small flakes falling gently from the sky. My eyes followed his movement, and I saw him folding his arms.

"Destiny has a strange way of interfering with the life of an individual." He said, "My life was altered, but destiny left me with an opportunity to show my true strength in dire moments. I don't enjoy being dead, but knowing that I could accomplish something so great makes it all worthwhile, and I want my friends and fans to know that."

He turned around, giving me a smile. It wasn't a cheeky grin, but a content smile, and his eyes beamed with a happiness that I've never seen before. All the harder it was to look at. I had to lower my head and shut my eyes and eventually cry even more.

"Only you can do this. You're the only one who can tell my story, and I need you to do it. Everyone needs to know that a duck doesn't only clean its feathers to look nice, but also to fly through his efforts. Look where it got me: a true hero, with good looks and loads of fans." He was momentarily silent, but continued with a dreamy, animated voice. "I hope most of them are fan-girls."

A joke. He could crack a joke in any kind of time.

"Of course I can."

I looked up at him, seeing his hand stretched out in front of my face. "Even after death, I'll still be Danger Duck. So do me a favor and stop crying. Wait, let me rephrase that: Do me a couple of favors and stop crying, stand up and write me that story."

I looked at his hand, and back at him. "How can you pull me up if you're a ghost?"

"As long as you believe in your hero, anything is possible. I believe in mine, and that is you."

I scoffed reluctantly. "Me? How can I be your hero?"

"I'll tell you how." He began fervently, "You've got a heart to understand others, you've got ears to listen to the troubles of others, you've got eyes to shed tears for others, you've got a mouth to speak out your mind for others, you've got fingers to write stories about the bravery of others… And up to the last point, you used it all for my sake. I couldn't be any more grateful to someone who answered all my needs. You are a hero to my eyes."

More tears poured out of my eyes and my head sunk even lower. I could feel my hands get wet by the mingled tears of sorrow and yet affectionate compassion of Duck's words. Me, a hero… I never imagined that.

"I have faith in you. Do you have faith in me?"

Without any further hesitations, I pulled my head back up in a determined, teary stare and reached out my hand to his fingers. I clung onto them, and I instantly felt incredible warmth emanating from his hand, erasing in unexplainable ways the sadness that infested my heart. I was unsure of the strength within me, abandoned when the anger left me, but him pulling me up was as if he was pulling me from a muddy sandpit. My strength slowly returned as I claimed my rightful height through the help of Danger Duck's warm hand and astounding determination of his eyes, with the grin of his heroic and obnoxious days plastered on his beak.

But by the time I was standing on my feet, he disappeared. I looked all around me, calling out his name, but a response never reached my ears. I didn't say it never reached my heart.

_Death is inevitable, Cool Jay, but the bond between us is unbreakable. As long as you have faith in me, I'll be around to watch you and you'll hopefully listen to me when I guide you throughout your life. Oh, and don't forget, you still have a story to write about me!_

I found myself laughing in tears, surmounted by an exalted feeling of joy from my heart. I walked towards my window, admiring the now heavy-weighted snow falling from the grey sky. Though his death is something to grieve about, I couldn't cry anymore. It's not a negative concept. As long as I believe in him, he'll be around, just like he said before. I was given a difficult task, such as describing the last moments of a hero like Danger Duck, but coming from that ego-centric duck, it seems that there is still something to enjoy about. No, not that his death was enjoyable, of course not! Knowing that he still will be the same old Duck Danger even after death, then I'd say that there is still something to laugh about.

From this encounter, there have been lessons that have been learned, and I think all of you readers have seen it through this little story. There is a hero inside of every one of us. You don't need powers. You don't need the looks. The strength of your heart is what matters.

I have also had my share of lessons. I've learned that taking your mind off a story isn't that bad. You write when you feel like it. It is true that the essential inspiration doesn't kick when you need it most, especially during writing, but forgetting that you're writing a story helps you to become a better writer. To put it in a simple phrase, life isn't only about writing, it's about telling stories, and stories are best told when they are coming from outside than from the mind.

I have taken my time in Duck's story, because it is legendary. I forgot it at several times, but Duck knew that it was for the better of me. Or of his story.

I know what you're thinking. Isn't Danger Duck from your imagination? Who knows? All I know is that I had an unbelievable encounter with a great hero, and that he taught me important things in my life. These teachings will be cherished in my heart, and I'll use it whenever it is mostly needed.

I won't say _Rest in Peace, Danger Duck_, because we all know he won't rest. He'll be bickering about his time on earth, and his good looks, and the suit he was dying to get, with Earth's all other departed souls. All I can say is this.

Have one Hell of a time in Heaven, Danger Duck.

_You betcha._

**_O_**

* * *

I hope you enjoyed this one as well, and also hope that you have all learned something of it. If there is anything else that I have to say, then it would be that starting from the line that separates this story in two, I listened to Debriefing, composed by Harry Gregson-Williams for Metal Gear Solid 3. Look it up on YouTube. From the line to the end, it just fits perfectly well. Couldn't find anything better. Oh, and if you are an avid Danger Duck fan, then I'd say be proud of being one. As I am.

All the best.

CJ


End file.
